


Stimming

by JaneDoe112255



Series: Autistic Bruce [2]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom, The Incredible Hulk (2008)
Genre: Abuse, Adorable Bruce Banner, Autism, Autism Spectrum, Autistic Bruce Banner, Bad Parenting, Bruce Banner & Tony Stark Friendship, Bruce Banner Needs a Hug, Bruce Feels, Bruce Has Issues, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Insecure Bruce, Protective Tony Stark, Therapy, Tony Being Tony, Tony Stark Has A Heart, stimmimg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-10
Updated: 2018-07-10
Packaged: 2019-06-08 06:09:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15237105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaneDoe112255/pseuds/JaneDoe112255
Summary: Stories of Bruce stimming





	Stimming

As a child, Bruce would stim often. His father was never accepting of this fact. He only desired a regular son, not one that did not speak until he was five, and not one that did not know how to sit still. 

Something that his mother had told Bruce had excited him, and he flapped his hands and bounced up and down on the spot. Something in those actions had angered Brian. That is not how a child was supposed to react to being excited. 

Bruce's mother beamed down at him and worked her hands through her son's hair. Rebecca knew her son was different. He was no doubt a genius. She knew he had autism. Brian, however, would never consent to have Bruce tested. That was okay. She would have him diagnosed when she left.

Brian came out of nowhere and seized Bruce's small wrist; this caused Bruce to gasp and try to take his hand back from his father. 

"Don't do that," Brian demanded.

"Brian, stop! You're hurting him!" Rebecca shouted.

"Shut up!"

Bruce squeaked at the loud voices of his parents. He never liked loud sounds. When his mommy's voice was loud, he could handle it better than he could when his daddy would shout. Bruce felt tears coming to his eyes. He did not let them fall. He was a big boy, and big boys do not cry.  
...

"Quiet hands."

Bruce hated that expression. He hated that expression more than he hated Brian, more than he hated the therapist that uttered the expression. 

"Quiet hands," the therapist said.

Bruce had to suppress the urge to cringe away from the woman as she placed her hands over his. He did not like it when people touched him like that. It was too soft.

During therapy, he was supposed to sit completely still. No rocking. No hand flapping. Nothing. 

Bruce did not understand. No other kid he knew was required to sit perfectly still. It was not fair. Other kids got to squirm in their seats. They got to move their bodies the way that they wanted to. But they did not have autism. They were not different. They were not broken, tainted, infected. They deserved to move the way they wanted to. They were normal. 

"Point to the blue."

Bruce felt like he was floating away. He did not know where his body was. Bruce remembered not to rock, even though it helped ground him. Helped him know where his body was.

He pointed to blue.  
...

Ross knew the boy was weird from the instant he met him. He had a stutter. A bad one, primarily when he was nervous. He shrugged people's hand off of him, even his daughter's. Betty seemed to learn when and how to touch the boy. He never looked people in the eyes. He was just strange.

Bruce currently believed that he was alone. He was staring at the results of an experiment he ran as if he stared at them long enough it would give him all the explications. That was not uncommon. It was normal for the scientist to process and investigate the results of an experiment. His movements, however, were not typical. He was rocking back and forth in his chair, humming under his breath. Bruce made an agitated noise, then flapped his arms before settling down, and staring at the results again.

Ross decided then to make his presence known, "are you okay, Boy?"

Bruce started and shifted to face Ross. Bruce was suddenly back in therapy with someone standing above him telling him to point to a specific color for a bathroom break. 

Bruce swallowed and said "y-yes, sir. I-I'm-m f-f-fi-fine."

Bruce chanced a glance at Ross' face. He saw a deep scowl edged on the older man's face. He looked back down at the ground and meandered on about something that Ross could not be bothered to understand. Ross raised his hand. Bruce tensed but closed his mouth.

"Get back to work," Ross said in his usual gruff voice. 

Bruce nodded at Ross' existing back and reiterated to himself, "get back to work, get back to work."  
...

Bruce was going to stop staring at results if they start to frustrate him. He was going to walk away, take a break, take a nap. Come back to it with a fresh pair of eyes, maybe have Tony look at it. Yeah, he would have Tony look at it.

Bruce hummed under his breath and tried his best not to flap his hands. He could not do it in front of other people; people did not like it. Tony was not like other people thought. He was not afrid of him. He did not look at Bruce like he was strange or inferior because of his eccentricities.

He bit his second knuckle on his first finger to restrain himself from flapping. He did not register the pain. 

"Hey, Brucie," Tony addressed him. 

Bruce hummed his acknowledgment passed his knuckle.

"What's up?"

Bruce removed the knuckle from his mouth and explained his problem to Tony.

And if he flapped his hands a little, Tony did not mention it.  
...

This was a bad battle, bad not even beginning the word to describe it, horrible being a better word, horrendous being even better. Did not matter what adjectives one used though. All that matter is that this was on Tony's top five list of worst battles. Top three, maybe, he still had to take into account the Battle of NewYork with Loki. 

He must have a concussion. That was the only time his thoughts were all jumbled up, but he did not need to ponder about that right now, he needed to find Bruce.

Natasha said she last saw Hulk head north, towards a wooded area. It had been a long time since Hulk had run off after a battle. Last time he had Bruce had a complete meltdown because he did not know where he was and wanted to go home. It was the first time Bruce had indicated to the tower as being his home; it had caused Tony's metal heart swell. He was getting off topic again. Find Bruce.

It took Tony ten minutes to find Bruce. When he did Bruce was huddled up against a tree. He was continuously freezing following a Hulk-Out. It did not matter if it was one-hundred degrees outside. He required a sweater to keep him warm. Tony questioned was Bruce did while he was on the run. Do think about that. Extremely depressing.

"Hey, Brucie," Tony spoke in a soft tone. He knew that Bruce hated loud noises. It did not seem to matter how softly Tony spoke because Bruce whimpered in distress and covered his ears. 

Tony sighed and sat Bruce's clothes across his lap. Tony hoped that the material would not upset Bruce. 

Bruce hastily put on his new clothes and stood facing Tony with his arms crossed and body hunched over.

"Hey, Bruce," Tony was trying to get his attention. He was supposed to acknowledge that. It was polite. Words were hard on Bruce right then, so he settled for a questioning hum. That was rude, was it? No, Tony never said it was rude. Then again Tony's view of what was mean and what was not seemed to be off at times.

"It's gonna be a while before the team's gonna get here, so do whatever you gotta do."

Bruce looked at Tony with a questioning look before he started to rock on his heels.  
...

After that, Bruce did not hesitate to stim in front of Tony, and he was warming up to the rest of the team.


End file.
